


Aredhel

by tianaluthien



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 08:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2844029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tianaluthien/pseuds/tianaluthien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eol, meet the Duke. Duke, meet Eol. You two should have a lot in common. (Based on "My Last Duchess" by Robert Browning - with apologies to the poet :P) Formerly posted on henneth-annun.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aredhel

My wife, Aredhel, painted on the wall

Looks as though she were alive. I do call

That portrait a wonder; Caranthir's hands

 Worked busily a day, and there she stands.

Will't please you sit and look at her? I said

"Caranthir" by design, for never read

High Elves like you that painted countenance,

The pride and beauty of her haughty glance,

But to myself they turned (since none puts by

The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)

And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,

How such a glance came there; so, not the first

Are you to turn and ask thus. Lords, 'twas not

Her husband's presence that did call that spot

Of pride into my lady's face: I heard

Caranthir say, "Around is spoken word –

Praise – of your son. More like to Turgon than

Eöl," and "Gondolin was fairer when

You lived within those walls": these things he said

Were true enough to her and are what caused

That haughty lifting of her gaze. She had

A heart – how shall I say? – not soon made glad,

Nor easily impressed by her husband;

She hid from me but I was everywhere.

 It meant nothing, my favor at her breast –

She did prefer the wind out of the West,

News of her kin, brought by some Noldo fool

Out of the city under Turgon's rule,

 Talking with Maeglin, our son… all and each

Of these would draw a proud and gracious speech,

Or, perhaps, a smile. These pleased her – but I,

It seemed, somehow did fail to qualify –

She saw my gifts as having no great worth

And so disdained them. I did not curse

This sort of thing. And you, lords – had you skill

In speech (as have I) to tell her your will –

Clear, unmistakable – and say, "Just this

Or that in you angers me; here you miss,

Or there exceed the mark." – and if she let

You speak so to her and your wits were met…

Valar! She'd cut you down, she'd humble you;

And I would not be humbled, for words true

She ne'er did speak. Oh yes, she smiled, she did

Whene'er I passed her, her contempt unhid.

This grew. My aim was poor and all smiles and

Contempt were still. There Aredhel does stand

As if alive. Will't please you rise? I've kept

You long enough. 'Tis about time you crept

Back to Turgon to tell my tale before

My death. He'll say, "You shouldn't put much store

 In anything Eöl says." But  _I_  say

His sister was a whore, and come what may

For me, she will never again walk through

Gondolin. Remember Anguirel – you

Have seized the mate of Anglachel; my heart

 Is in the steel – I made it through my art.   
  
  
  
 _*Since it's never specified what happened to Anguirel, Anglachel's mate, I'm assuming (for purposes of this poem) that Eöl had it with him and that Turgon claimed it before Eöl was executed. *Somewhat AU as they never gave Eöl the chance to speak but just threw him off a cliff…_


End file.
